


Kingdom Come

by conceptofzero



Category: Berserk
Genre: Backstory, F/F, F/M, Original Character(s), beserk is a content warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 07:26:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12954288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conceptofzero/pseuds/conceptofzero
Summary: Slan, before her eclipse, when she was young and mortal and named Ysabel, and she loved festival days and was loved by God.





	Kingdom Come

**Author's Note:**

> For my good friend Cleo's birthday, and written in exchange for a beautiful little behelit.

The festival days are Ysabel’s favorites. On festival days, they dress her in blues and yellows, and they put ribbons and bells in her hair. She jingles everywhere she goes, and every adult she sees cheers for her, clapping their hands and calling her name. On festival days, she walks with the procession of her sisters (until she’s tired, and then she’s carried on a Mother’s shoulders) and she shakes her tambourine and they all praise the Lord for his blessings. The poor and the needy crowd the steps of the temple and she lays her hands on them all, saying blessings. May you be healed. May you be freed. 

(when she thinks very hard, little bits of light leak from her fingertips, but no one sees this but her, and she doubts herself afterwards, when the day is over)

On festival days, Ysabel and her sisters all sing together, their voices blending into one mighty choir meant for God to hear and to know how much his children love him. The Father is there and he watches with a smile as they sing, sitting on God’s throne. When the song is over, there is bread and honey, and blessings for everyone. The Father lays a hand on each of their heads and says that they are good, they are good, and they are loved by God. 

When the day is done, and the Mothers put Ysabel back into her sackcloth and her hair is braided away, and she returns to the room where she and her sisters live, she lies on her cot and stares at the moon and prays for God to send another day of celebration soon.

—

When Ysabel is a little older, the first of her sisters falls. She’s in the hall, performing her acts of service. The water is cold and her fingers ache, but she goes on scrubbing and washing. The pain is as beautiful to God as her voices and the celebration, that’s what the Mothers say. Ysabel wishes God loved the celebrations more than scrubbing stones. 

She’s peeling away boot prints when she hears Marian screaming. She comes running by, her hands covered in blood. Ysabel stares and she’s frozen still, unsure of what’s happening or what to do. A Mother is close behind and she catches Marian by the scruff of her neck. Marian twists and screams and the Mother shakes her hard, like a cat shakes a mouse. 

“He’ll not forgive you for this!” The Mother says. “You’ve wasted his blessings!” 

Marian wails and twists in her grip, and she screams out, “He’s a monster! He’s a monster! He’s a monster! He’s a monster!” 

She keeps on screaming, until the Mother dashes Marian’s head against the wall. There’s a cracking noise, and then silence. The Mother turns to Ysabel, who has watched quiet all this time. She has a dangerous look in her eyes. Marian hangs limp in the Mother’s hands. 

Ysabel turns away, dunks her brush in the water, and gets back to scrubbing. She dares not look back, not until the Mother and Marian are gone. Even then, she keeps scrubbing, praying to God. She prays and prays, and when the floor is clean and her hands are cracked, she finally looks.

There’s a smear of blood on the wall, high up where Marian’s head hit. Ysabel can barely reach it on her tip-toes. She carefully scrubs it off, until there’s no trace of blood left. 

When she goes to bed that night, Marian is isn’t there. Ysabel prays to God to make her safe, and to remember that she is good and she loves him, and she will never waste his blessings. 

—

Other sisters falls. She doesn’t know why. Sometimes, they simply disappear and their names are never said again. 

Other times, she hears them screaming. 

Ysabel wakes up in the night when Hester wakes her. She knows Hester, because she’s a bigger girl, and because she’s got a scar all up her face. The Mother said Hester got that when she was a baby because her parents were awful, and wasn’t it good that she now lived with them instead? Ysabel always nodded. She couldn’t remember her family, but she knew the story must have been the same for her too. 

Hester shushes her, and leads her out of the room. They aren’t supposed to leave when it’s dark and she balks at the threshold, but Hester pulls her along anyway, boldly taking her from the room and into the halls. They go into places she’s never been before. Hester knows the way and she leads boldly. She always had. Hester is a head taller than Ysabel and she has a fierce hawk-look to her eyes.

She takes Ysabel up stairs and they squeeze through a gap behind bookcases, and through a small, musty passage into the walls. Hester has to crawl. She’s too big to stand anymore, and at the end, there is a bit where she struggles to get through and Ysabel wonders if she’ll be stuck here, and then they’ll both fall and be thrown aside. But Hester makes it through, and she leads Ysabel in.

They’re in the top of a tall chamber. The walls here are covered in sacred carvings, of open, yawning faces and staring eyes. Hester sits on the ledge, and Ysabel sits beside her. Hester speaks to her so quietly, so soft that Ysabel must strain, even with Hester’s mouth pressed tight to her ear. 

“They will bring you in here and they’ll give you a lamb. They will have you sing for Him. When He rises up, they’ll give you a knife.” Hester says, and she directs Ysabel to look down. 

There is a platform that stretches out over a dark hole. The tip of the platform is dark. The smell of the place is rotten. As her eyes adjust, she realizes there is something in the hole. There is something huge in the hole. Her eyes trace the shape and grow large-

Hester clamps a hand over Ysabel’s mouth. “Don’t scream.” She commands. “Don’t ever scream. Sing for Him. Praise Him. And you’ll be safe.” 

Ysabel feels the scream die in her throat. Don’t scream. Just sing. She nods. So this is it. This is Marian’s monster. 

Hester holds on a little longer before she lets go. She leads Ysabel back, taking her to their room. Ysabel holds her hand tight and in the corridor, she asks Hester, “Did you show the others?”

“A few.” She says soft. “The ones who wouldn’t go screaming and running. You can’t save them all. You can only save yourself, and the ones like you.” 

Ysabel considers this. She lies in bed and thinks of the creature in the pit. When it comes time, she will sing. She won’t scream. You can only save yourself. 

—

She finds the red stone behind a dresser. Ysabel is praising God by cleaning the guest’s rooms. It’s boring work but there’s a festival coming soon, and so she turns her mind towards that. 

The dresser is a little ajar and she slips her hand behind it to clean away the dirt and cobwebs. When her fingers find something strange in there, she scrabbles it out, and tries to see what it is. Maybe jewelry that fell down. 

It’s a face, of sorts. The features are all in the wrong place. The eyes are closed. Ysabel forgets herself for a moment as she sits on the floor, holding the strange head in the palm of her hands. It feels warm and soft, and yet hard like stone, without any give beneath the the smooth surface. 

Stealing is a sin. She should turn it over immediately. But it isn’t jewels and it isn’t gold, and it isn’t precious. It’s a little ugly, and a little warm, and she loves it. She loves it the way the God loves her. 

She brings the stone to her lips, brushing her mouth along the surface. “You’re mine.” Ysabel has never owned anything before. Sisters aren’t meant to own things. Mothers aren’t meant to own things. They wear bells and ribbons for festivals, but they’re taken away when it’s over and they go back to beds that aren’t theirs, and to sackclothes that belonged to sisters before her and will belong to sisters after her. They aren’t supposed to have anything that’s theirs. That’s how they can live so faithful and pure.

“You’re mine.” She tells the red stone. Her fingers send little sparks into it, as if perhaps she can wake it. 

The stone opens an eye and looks at her. Ysabel’s breath catches in her throat. The eye looks at her, and then slowly closes again.

She holds it close to her chest. It’s hers. It’s hers. It’s hers. 

Ysabel hides it in her armpit, keeping it clamped safely out of sight. At night, she slips out and takes the path Hester showed her, and she hides it up there above the creature. It’s safe there. She can come see it anytime she wants. It’s hers now, hers and no one else’s. 

—

The day comes when a Mother fetches her and leads her to the Holy of Holies. She knows what lies behind those vast doors and she has gazed down at them a dozen times, but she is still frightened. 

They dress her in muslin and mark her forehead and cheeks with holy words, and they give her a lamb. They do not give her a knife, yet. 

She leads the lamb into the temple room, over the small platform, to the seething mass of beast. The lamb bleats unhappily and pulls upon the rope, but she holds fast. Sing, they command, and so she sings. Ysabel’s voice is weak at first and she is afraid. Some girls never come back…

Her eyes drift up. High above her is her small red friend. He’s watching her. She’s sure of it. His eyes must be open. He’s listening to her too… 

Ysabel’s voice grows stronger, then louder. She sings the sacred songs, calling up her praise to her friend and to the best around her. Allelujah, allelujah, Lord and God, hold me close, hear my song. When the monster rises, she sings all the same. 

When they press the knife into her hand, she wraps her fingers beneath the lamb’s neck and draws the blade across it. It kicks and chokes and bleats, and she does not let go. The blood that sprays on her is warm and her heart flutters in her chest. The hooves kick and scrabble, then give out. 

The creature brings a vast eye to rest on the platform, just ahead of her. He shifts and changes, and something vast becomes a man - becomes the Father. Oh. Oh… 

Ysabel lowers her knife and lets go of the lamb. She is splattered with blood and the Father lays his hand upon her head. 

“You are good.” He tells her. His eyes are yellow. His teeth are crooked. “You are loved by God.” 

They lead her away. The lamb remains behind. She is washed and changed, and sent back to her work, which today is mucking the stables. Hester is there, and when she sees Ysabel, she nods. “You didn’t fall.” 

“I didn’t.” She says, and smiles. Hester smiles a little back, before they get to shoveling. 

—

The first girl Ysabel teaches falls. She picks Lauda, who is diligent and kind, and who always shares a little bit of her fruit when Ysabel, when they’re given some. This is her mistake and later, she understands what Hester really meant. 

Lauda, kind and diligent, but without any iron at her core. When her eyes fall upon the Father, she screams. Ysabel is quick and she clamps her hand over her mouth to muffle it and quiet her, but she doesn’t quiet herself. She screams and screams and struggles against Ysabel. 

Below them, she hears the Father stir. Beside her, Ysabel’s little friend stirs, opening an eye. She feels the panic build inside of her. They’ll be caught. They’ll be punished. They’ll be killed.

They’ll be killed. 

The panic breaks. Ysabel doesn’t think. She acts. Ysabel takes her hand off of Lauda’s mouth and as she screams, piercing bright in the dark, she pushed her. The sister tips on the ledge, and she falls. Ysabel doesn’t stop to watch. She grabs the stone and holds him in her palm as she squeezes through the space and runs, runs, runs, fast as she can, back to the Sister’s room. Lauda screams, until suddenly she doesn’t, and there’s no sound at all. 

Ysabel slips into the room and curls into her bed, lying still and closing her eyes. She expects at any moment that the Mothers will burst in and drag her out. They’ll know it was here. They’ll know and they’ll punish her. 

Or worse. Worse, perhaps the Father himself will come to punish her. 

She presses the egg to her lips and she prays to God - and to him. Please, God, please. Don’t let them know. Don’t let them find out. Please… 

No one comes to the sisters’ room. She lies awake all night and when dawn comes, she hides the stone and washes herself and dresses with the rest. The Mothers say nothing as they’re lead out. Ysabel is exhausted but she praises God harder than ever before, scrubbing every pot and pan and plate until the heaps of dishes are clean and her hands are bright red and wrinkled. 

No one comes for her, other than to send her to dinner with the rest. No one says a word about Lauda being gone. 

But then, she’s not the only girl to disappear in the night.

When they return to the room, there’s a new sister waiting. Ysabel lets the others greet her. She goes straight to bed and falls sound asleep, exhausted, but relieved. Murder is a sin, she knows it is, but what Hester said was truer than that. You can only save yourself.

She saved herself. God will understand. God knows she’s good. 

—

She lives as a sister for another five years. Ysabel sees many small sisters come and go, their empty beds quickly filled. The work becomes harder as she becomes older, and more and more, she spends her days with Hester, the both of them doing laundry for the Mothers and Sisters, or mucking the stable, or hauling water from the well. The labour is hard, but God is good and they are good, and she finds it easy to praise with Hester around. 

Once or twice a year, she takes sisters along the same path as her, showing them the Father. Most of them survive, and they share secret little smiles. When she becomes too big to fit through the hole, she teaches the last girl and she steals her little man away from his hiding spot above the father. She whispers to him late at night when the others are asleep, her mouth gently kissing his face each time her lips move. It’s a sin to steal and a sin to kiss, but it doesn’t feel sinful to do such things to the face. 

He’s hers. He’s the only thing that’s hers. She hides him well and keeps him close, tucked into her armpit, or hidden in tall places only she can reach. 

When Hester becomes a Mother, she feels as if she might cry. Hester just gives her a gentle smile. “You’ll join me soon.” 

At the next festival, the bells and ribbons feel so small in her hair. She has grown and she stand tall now, and she wonders if this will be her last festival. She is younger than Hester, but she is tall and her dress falls around her knees instead of her calves. The little ones bless the masses and she holds each hand she can, her voice passionate and full of faith. May you be healed. Maybe you be healed. May you be freed. May you walk again. May you have a child, May you, may you…

This may be her last festival, and all the sisters are walking into the temple, and she should join them, but there are so many waiting. She grasps each hand and she prays for them. And…

And something happens. With each hand she touches, she feels the change in them. It’s always been there in her, the little spark of light that flowed from fingertip to fingertip. She was the only one to see it. But now, she sees the way eyes light up as she touches them. She sees boils wither and give ground to healthy flesh. She sees crooked limbs straighten out. 

Ysabel feels God move through her. She feels God speak to her and tell her the secret ways to heal. 

“Sister.” A Mother calls. Hester calls. “Sister, come along.” 

Ysabel can’t. She can’t. She has to touch them all. She has to reach them all. Ysabel lays her hands and watches the milky colour of a man’s eyes turn clear and blue again. She lays her hands and watches a baby’s flesh fill, until the skin no longer hangs from his bones. 

“Sister!” She calls again. Then- “Ysabel!” 

“Hester!” She calls, and she turns her face to her and lays her hand on Hester, over the mark on her face. Ysabel feels the skin beneath go smooth, and Hester does too, her eyes so big with shock. Ysabel heals her, and she holds her tight. “God is with me. God loves us. We are good, Hester, we are all so good.” 

The crowds surge around her and she lays her hands on them, healing them until two more Mothers come and drag her away and into the temple. They’re still reaching for her when they pull her away and she’s reaching back, desperate to touch just one more, to take away their pain and suffering. 

Ysabel only realizes how sick she’s become once the temple doors close and she collapses on the floor. The Father is on his throne, watching. His eyes seem so cold and unforgiving as her eyes slide closed, and Ysabel falls into a restless slumber. 

—

When she wakes, everything is different. She is not a sister anymore, but she is not a Mother either. They press wet clothes to her mouth and the Mothers whisper to her, “You’re a saint.” 

A saint made flesh. A blessing from God. 

They dress her in soft, white silks and they braid flowers in her hair, yellow and pink. They give her soft gloves and they hide her face behind gauzy silk, and when she walks, she needs a sister on her arm to help her find her way. 

Hester takes her arm and Ysabel holds tight to her. She feels so frightened. All she wanted to do was heal them. 

“I just wanted to help.” She tells Hester, who shushes her. Hester squeezes her tight, and Ysabel goes quiet. She can only save herself, and others like her. 

They take her to Holy of Holies. Hester keeps her arm locked with Ysabel as they stand on the platform. He slithers up onto the platform, and he does not change his shape. His breath is hot and unpleasant and she fights to stay very still. The silks flutter under his breath. 

She wishes her red friend was here with her. He’s on the top of a shelf in the sister’s room. She hasn’t had a chance to find him again. Ysabel hasn’t been along, and she’s so afraid, and she wishes he were here. Even if he were dangling above the pit again, that would be some comfort… 

Ysabel prays to God. Lord, let me be fearless. Let me be your messenger. 

The Father extends a hand. That’s when she understands. He wishes to be healed. 

Ysabel steps forward and lays her hands on him. She prays and she pulls upon the thought of God, on His glory, and she tries to heal him. The spark of light comes-

The Father recoils and Ysabel brings her hands to her mouth, horrified. His hand has burns where her fingers touched and all she can do is fall to her knees. “I’m sorry!” She cries out. “I’m sorry, Father!” 

But he isn’t angry with her. He curls his hand away and he hisses to them. “She has been blessed. Have her tend to those who pay.” 

The Sisters nod and she’s lifted up again and taken away. Ysabel cranes her head back to look at him, before he hides in the pit again. The scars remain and she wonders how it could be that God’s blessing would burn him. How could the Father be harmed by her touch? 

There are no answers for Ysabel. 

—

Everything changes. She has her own room. There’s a bed she shares with no one, and clothes that are only for her. She has a mirror as well, and she stares at herself often, looking at her face and her skin. Ysabel doesn’t know if she’s pretty or not, but she thinks she might be. She’s never been allowed to stare into mirrors before. Vanity is a sin.

But this is her mirror, and when she’s all alone, she takes off all her clothes and looks at the way her body is slowly forming a shape as she ages, her hips growing wider and her chest slowly filling in. Soon, she’ll be a woman. Not a sister. Not a mother. A woman… 

A saint. 

She’s taken to the temple each day. The sick and the suffering line up one after the other and come to see her. She lays her hands on them and feels God’s will flow through her. The light comes from her fingers and when they are healed, she has them kneel with her and pray to God, to thank Him for his gift. And when they leave, the Mothers collect a donation. 

The once-blind man visits her. He doesn’t need healing anymore, but he comes to pray with her. His name is Dain and he has rough hands but a gentle smile. He has very little to give, and on the third time they ask him for a donation, she pulls the Mothers aside and says to them, “Let him be. He asks for nothing and he prays with me. That is what God would want.” 

Hester comes to Ysabel’s room. Outside, they must behave. Inside, Hester lays on Ysabel’s bed and wears some of the gifts she’s been given, the gold necklaces, the jeweled rings. “You should be careful of how you speak to them.” 

“I’m a saint now. They should be careful of how they speak to me.” Ysabel says and in the mirror, she applies a little red tint to her lips, so they can be seen better through the veil. 

Hester doesn’t laugh at her boldness. She rests her head on her palm and she frowns. Ysabel sometimes misses the scar that was on Hester’s face. It made her look handsome. Now she looks like any other mother. “Be careful, Ysabel.” 

“I am. I am.” She sits on the bed with Hester and squeezes her hands. “I know how lucky I am. God has been good.” 

“God has been good.” Hester intones. She can be so serious sometimes. But, as quick as her warning came, there’s a slight smile in Hester’s face. “If you are going to throw caution to the wind, you should ask for larger chambers.” 

“A wonderful idea.” She kisses Hester’s knuckles and smiles, even as she feels her heart flutter somewhat. “But first, I want to find a way to have them leave me be. The way they guard me night and day makes me feel like a prisoner.”

Hester chuckles. “We all are. The Mothers watch the sisters, and the soldiers guard the doors, and the Father keeps us all.” 

They all are. Ysabel lies down on her bed, with Hester beside her, and she reflects on that. Why are they prisoners? They’re the ones who speak to God… 

She sets a hand on Hester’s stomach as she sleeps and she stares at the ceiling and questions many things she thought of as true. 

—

She asks for larger chambers, and gets them. Next, she asks for Dain to join her and to help choose who deserved to be seen first. This gives her more trouble than the chambers and she’s not entirely certain why, until a Mother comes out and says, “He’ll choose those who can’t give.” 

“Oh, is that it?” Ysabel bites back a laugh and simply smiles from beneath her veils. “Then I will go privately to those who will give the most, and we will heal those who cannot in the temple proper. There are many sick who cannot make the journey, who would be happy to give.” 

And there are. The rich grow sick as much as the poor do. So, with Dain and Hester at her side, she goes to them. She sees the world outside of the walls of God’s house, outside of festival streets. There’s gold and silk here, riches stacked high with casual disregard. They offer her fruit and jewels and in return, she lays her hands on men and women and heals their wounds, their sicknesses, the rot deep in their souls. 

Dain hates it. He stands in her chambers and stares out the barred windows. “You shouldn’t be serving those with money. Your gift is from God. You should be in the streets, healing those who need you most.”

“Everyone needs me.” Ysabel reminds him. She strokes her hair with a brush and twists it up, pinning it on the right side. Hester helps her with the left. “The money helps the temple. The money lets me heal those who have nothing.”

“You shouldn’t need money to help them. We should simply be helping.” Dain sighs and leans against the wall. He’s very handsome. His eyes are so blue. He makes her heart flutter the way Hester does, and Ysabel doesn’t know what to do about that. She keeps them close to her, her Hester and her Dain, and she obeys the commands of the Mothers and the Father… for now. For now.

“Maybe one day.” She looks at herself in the mirror. Reflections are still a delight to her. She’s spent most of her life only seeing herself distorted in the bend of spoons or the bottom of pots. Ysabel’s seen enough people now to know that she’s very plain, but she likes her face anyway. It’s her face, after all. “When the Father passes, things will be different.” 

Hester’s brush stops in Ysabel’s hair and she lets out a soft, “Oh, Ysa. The Father won’t die.”

“Everyone dies.” Ysabel says but Hester shakes her head. 

Dain looks darkly their way and he frowns. "Father Ralf has always been here. My grandparents remember him being here, always. They said God granted him eternal life, after his family perished and he did not blame Him.” 

She thinks of the Father in his pit. She thinks of the way her fingertips burned him. 

“He’s very old.” She says softly, and twists her hair between her fingers. “Perhaps God will take away that eternal life.” 

Hester pinches her shushes her. Ysabel keeps the rest of her thoughts in her head, looking at her reflection. They’ll come with flowers for her hair, and her veils, and they’ll take her out to heal. She’s their saint.

But why do they need a saint and a Father both? What has the Father done for them but lay in that pit?

A thought forms in her head and it takes root, slowly germinating. 

—

Ysabel walks a thin line. She heals the poor in the morning, and the rich in the afternoon, and in evenings, she prays with Dain in the temple and calls to all who follow her to pray with them. Their faces are adoring and they want nothing more but the touch of her hand, the whisper of her words, her gentle embrace. 

She is worshiped and it makes her feel as she did when she was little and it was a festival day, and she wore her bells and ribbons and touched the hands of those on the temple stairs. Every day is a festival day for Ysabel now, and she wears silk and flowers and beneath her layers, she wears her stone on a string, keeping his between her breasts. He is a gift from God, and she is His saint. 

When she lies in bed at night, Hester beside her, she thinks of the crowds. They love her, and she loves them in return. Yet, they keep her locked up, with guards at her chamber doors. They say it’s to protect her… 

She knows the truth. The Father uses her, but he does not trust her. Her hands burned him with just a touch. 

The days are short and the nights are cold when Ysabel makes up her mind. She does not wait to fight with Father or to pull at her chains. If she resists first, they will ask questions when the time comes. Too many questions. 

Ysabel simply slips from her bed in the night, leaving Hester to turn into the warm spot where Ysabel was, and she stands on her vanity, and climbs up the structure that holds her mirror in place, and she shimmies her way through the bars. She is very tall now, tall as a woman, but she is flat as a board, and there is nothing that can hold her. 

Through the bars, she drops down to the ground outside, and she quietly follows the paths she learned as a child, the secret winding ways that guards never know. She follows hallways to the Holy of Holies. There are no guards on the Father. 

She steps inside, and she walks along the platform. The father lies beneath, his vast eyes closed. He slumbers. Along one of those knobbled hands, she sees the burns from her fingertips, still present. Ysabel kneels at the edge of the platform and begins to pray, her mouth silently calling upon God to fill her with His love and his energy. 

“Little saint,” The Father whispers and Ysabel startles, the light draining from her hands. He’s awake? 

He rises and she does as well, but before she can do anything, he snatches her up with one of his hands, holding her above the platform. Her turns her upside down and shakes her hard. Her whole body’s thrown back and forth and her teeth bite down on her tongue, filling her mouth with blood. She reaches for God’s power again and his fingers shift, pinning her wrists behind her back, keeping the bulk of himself out of reach of her hands. 

“Why are you here?” His voice is like gravel and he holds her before one of those yellow eyes. He blinks and her face reflects back at her, distorted and cruel. She looks like a monster in his sight. “Have you come to kill me? Why? I have given you so much. I have asked for so little.” 

There are bones beneath him. She sees them. They’re white and yellow, old and new bones, hundreds of sisters. Maybe thousands. Lauda is among them. Lauda, and Marian and so many others. 

She didn’t come here to kill him for them, but perhaps she will anyway. After all, without Hester, she could have been one of them too. 

When she doesn’t answer, he shakes her again. Blood flies out of her mouth in little drops. Her head spins. And from her shirt, the little red friend falls out, the cord twisted around her neck. He spins and the Father-

The Father stops with a low sound. Before she can think, she’s quickly righted and set back on the platform. The Father looks at her differently. His eyes aren’t cold and aloof. 

His eyes are frightened. “The crimson behelit…” 

Ysabel gets to her feet and she wraps a hand around her stone. Is that what it’s called? A behelit? 

He creeps up and for the first time, she sees his full body. She’s seen him as an old man, and seen him curled in the pit but… she had no idea he was so big. He’s gigantic. He climbs and he leaves behind a pit of bones as his hands pull him above her.

“Remember me.” He tells her. “Think of me and remember this. Do not forget me when you ascend.” 

“Wait, what do you mean?” She yells but he doesn’t stop. He climbs higher and higher, and when he reaches the roof, he breaks it open and crawls out. Ysabel is left staring at the hole. And when the guards arrive, she is staring at the hole still, clutching the behelit in her hand.

—

There are questions but not many. The Father is gone but the bones tell a gruesome story that none want to acknowledge. Ysabel steps in and weaves them a story of hearing the Father call to hear, and him telling her that it was time to pass on and go to God and to receive his reward in Heaven. She has the bones taken away and buried somewhere outside of the city, and she goes to greet the crowds.

No one misses the Father. They saw him only rarely. But Ysabel? They see Ysabel every day. They cry for her touch and she gives it to them and with each one she heals, she gains an ally - a worshiper. 

If the Mothers whisper of the Father’s disappearance, they keep those whispers where Ysabel does not need to hear them. She has the bars taken from her windows and the guards from her doors. She allows the Mothers to do their work with the Sisters, and Ysabel keeps the coffers full, laying her hands on the rich and healing their sinful indulgences. 

Dain is stormy when she tells him stories of what she’s seen but she soothes him as well, using her touch to turn his anger away. “We’ll take the money and make the city better for the poorest. You decide how best to use it. I trust you.” 

Hester tugs on Ysabel’s hair with her brush. When Dain is gone, she whispers to her. “Be careful. He’s a burning powder keg. You won’t be able to snuff his fuse out each time.” 

“But I have so far. Don’t doubt me.” She draws Hester near her, wrapping her arms around her. Hester is so arm and soft, and though she is a Mother, it is in name only. Hester is hers - same as the mirror, same as the jewels, same as the behelit. Ysabel rests her chin on Hester’s shoulder. “Things are better this way. The people out there love us.”

“They love you, Ysa.” Hester says and Ysabel sighs, and kisses Hester’s cheek, as she has a thousand times before. But this time, Hester turns her face and catches Ysabel with her mouth. The kiss is a surprise and Ysabel blinks. She’s never kissed another person before. Hester’s face grows pink but she has that same stern look on her face as she squeezes Ysabel’s hand. “I love you.”

“Oh.” Ysabel says. Her cheeks are pink as well. She buries her face against Hester’s throat. Her heart thrums in her chest. And… and she kisses Hester’s throat, soft and gentle, the way she kisses the behelit. “I love you too.”

It’s a sin. A Mother shouldn’t lust for anyone. A saint shouldn’t want anything beyond serving God. But… she’s already wanted.

If God wanted this to stop, He would stop them. She kisses Hester again, and she stop caring about anything else but what she wants. 

—

Ysabel takes up a seat in the Holy of Holies. The pit is filled with water and lilies now, and she sits on plush cushions and surrounds herself with burning incense. The sick and weary sits with her and she heals them. It’s better than the temple steps, quiet and peaceful. They thank her and fall to their knees and she feels so happy and so contented by their adoration. 

When she stops for lunch, she has Dain sit with her. He is always impatient and he eats very little, even when she presses. “The food is already made, it should be eaten.”

“I don’t need much. I’ve never had much. Give my share to someone out there.” Dain grumbles and Ysabel sighs a little. 

“If we go out there with a single share for one person, it will hurt the rest so much more than if we gave them all nothing. And you have earned this food. You find those who need my help most of all. Without you, the ones I healed would be those with family to bring them to me, or money to bring me to them.” She reminds him and she pushes a bowl towards him. “Eat. God commands you to care for yourself the way you care for others.” 

Dain takes his bowl reluctantly. He eats and Ysabel smiles. 

In the afternoons, she heals the rich. Sometimes, they presume too much. Their hands reach for what is not theirs to touch. They mistake her healing for the services of a concubine. They are corrected, gently at first, and then with violence. The Mothers are not harmless. There is iron in their fists, and Hester hits harder than most. 

“God’s gifts are for those who earn them, not for those who take them.” Ysabel reminders them, and the veils she wears do not soften the acid tone to her words. “You will repeat and pray for God to give you His forgiveness.” 

They sometimes choke out threats but most do not, knowing that if they do, Ysabel will never return and when they are left suffering, there will be no one to heal them. Those who threaten her are quickly punished for their sins, and they are quickly ostracized by those who know that if they are caught consorting with them, they too will find themselves unable to seek an audience in the Holy of Holies. 

At night, she lies with Hester in their bed. She is a Mother in name only now, for she wears silks like Ysabel and her hair is pinned up as well. Ysabel puts lipstick on her one kiss at a time, tinting her lips a lovely red, and they lounge naked in front of the mirror. Ysabel wears her behelit always, even though Hester hates it.

“It’s a ugly little thing.” She says, and wrinkles her nose when Ysabel picks it up and gives him a kiss. “Ysa, no.” 

“He’s my friend and I love him.” She tells Hester and she lies over the bed. Her eyes go to the door and she turns onto her belly. “Would you bring Dain to bed with us?”

The face Hester makes is far more disgusted than when Ysabel kissed her behelit. “God, don’t ask that of me.”

“Is he that ugly to you?” She teases, expecting Hester to describe all the ways in which Dain is hideous. But instead, Hester just turns her face away. Ysabel frowns. “What?” 

“Don’t ask me to bring another into our bed. I won’t share you.” Hester’s voice is trembling. Ysabel’s never heard her sound this way. When she sits up and moves forward, she finds Hester’s body is all tense. Her eyes look wet. “Don’t make me share you.” 

“Oh, Hester.” She sighs and wraps her arms around Hester’s waist. “I won’t. If you can’t, then I won’t.” 

It isn’t fair but… Hester has done so much for her. Dain is handsome, but Ysabel can turn her eyes away from him. Hester has done so much more for her. She kisses Hester’s throat and promises her, “I’m yours. All yours. And you’re all mine.” 

And she is. Hester is hers. The sink back into the bedding and she kisses the terror out of Hester, and fucks her until she forgets herself. 

When Hester sleeps, Ysabel steps out onto the balcony. The moon is high and full and it shines over her skin. She feels beautiful, even if she isn’t. The behelit rests against her chest and she feels content. This city loves her. Hester loves her. Ysabel has everything…

… almost everything. 

There are cities beyond this one. There are people out there who have never heard God’s word or His love. She could travel to them and heal them. This city is healthy. Perhaps… perhaps she’ll do just that. She and Hester and a handful of others. Dain can stay and care for them, and she’ll return with more to fill their city - more to worship her. 

Hester lifts her hands to the moon and sings a sacred song, thanking God for everything He gives them. He is Good and He loves her, and she is good too.

—

Dain waits for her in the Holy of Holies. “You’re leaving us?”

“Not for long. The city is healed, Dain. There are others who need my assistance. I’ll return soon.” She walks past him and takes a seat in her usual place. “It will take a few weeks to arrange everything, and we can complete our work in that time.”

“There is no ending to your work. Do you not understand? I have brought you only a fraction of what remains, Ysabel.” He seems at his wits end and Ysabel frowns, not understanding why he behaves this way. “There are thousands more!” 

“There will always be more, Dain. But you’ve brought me the worst, those who would die without me. The rest are suffering, but pain is simply pain. They can use it to sharpen their devotion, until I return.” She sets her hands in her lap and waits for him to calm himself. “This isn’t forever.”

“It may be! Ysabel, do you think other cities will let you invade them, heal their people, and simply leave when you choose to?” He thunders like a storm and she chuckles softly. That only makes him grow stormier. “You think this is amusing.”

“I think you are worried, and I am touched by your devotion.” She gives him a soft smile. “But God protects me. I am a saint. He will not let harm come to me.” 

“Ysabel…” Dain falls to his knees in front of her, grasping desperately at her hands. His grip is harsh and hurts as he squeezes her palms. “Listen to me. You have a gift, but it is not from God. You are a conduit for the powers of the Four Kings of the World.” 

Ysabel stares at Dain. It’s as if he began speaking a strange language. 

When she doesn’t answer, he squeezes again and Ysabel cries out as it hurts enough to make her hands throb. Dain hardly seems to notice. “You’re a witch, Ysabel, you’ve learned to summon them naturally. The people here think God gave you those powers and they believe you’re a saint, but out there, they will know what you are. They will not suffer a witch.” 

“Dain. Dain stop.” She chokes out. “You’re hurting me.” 

He quickly drops his hands from hers. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

“I’m not a witch.” Ysabel rubs her hands, trying to heal herself. God’s love comes slow and she struggles to make the light come. “This is God speaking through me. This is proof of his love.” 

“They aren’t. I know you don’t want to hear me, but you need to. God won’t protect you out there. And he won’t protect you in here either.” He reaches for her and stops his hands before he lays them on her, remembering his actions. Dain flexes his hands and his face falls. “Ysabel, they’ll hurt you.” 

Poor Dain… she thought he believed truly. But he doesn’t. They prayed together so many times. Did he do that for her? Because he loved her?

She sets an aching hand on his cheek, and she gives him a kiss - just one. Just one. When she draws back, she pushes him away. “I will be going Dain. And you will see. God loves us. God loves you.” 

“You’re going to be killed.” Dain says and stands and flees. Ysabel sighs as he leaves and she waits for him to send in the first to be healed. Her light comes slow and he knows that it’s because God thinks he doubts her. But she doesn’t. She sings to herself and waits, knowing He will see her heart remains true. 

—

The day of departure comes. Dain is nowhere to be seen, so Ysabel does what she can, turning over the rest to Hester. They weep when she tells the city her desires, absence will only make their love stronger. She promises to return within a year and she means it. 

Ysabel is walking through crowds, bidding goodbye to all who love her and promising to return. Her carriage waits and she touches each hand she can, until the Mothers usher her inside. Hester is waiting, and Ysabel waits until the doors are closed before she lifts her veil and leans in for a kiss. 

Hester just turns her face away. “Ysabel.”

“Don’t be shy. You’ve been gone the last few days. I’ve been lonely.” Hester has been so busy that Ysabel has barely seen her. Their bed has been too big and lonely without her. Ysabel tries again but when Hester rebuff her once more, she sighs and lets go of her. “Be like that then. I hope you’re in a better mood tomorrow.” 

Hester says nothing. Ysabel takes off her veils and leans back on the seat. Light rolls by now and then through slits in the carriage. This is the first time she has left the city, her and Hester. She thought Hester would be excited with her. Instead, she sits quietly. 

When Ysabel’s legs grow restless, she opens the slot to ask for them to stop for a moment, to let her see the countryside. But the slot doesn’t open when she tugs on it, and when she knocks, there’s no response. 

“It isn’t working.” She tells Hester. She tries the carriage’s shutters next, but they won’t open either. Hester says nothing, even as Ysabel pushes her palm against it and gives it a hard knock to open it up. 

No one answers her knocking, or when she calls out to them that the slot is shut. But that point, she realizes that there will be no answers. 

Ysabel turns slowly to face Hester, who will not look at her. “What have you done? Hester-” 

“Do you give your affection to anyone?” Hester’s words are poison. Ysabel grits her jaw. 

“It was only a kiss. I did nothing more. Dain loved me, and he worried-” She says but Hester shakes her head. “It was only a kiss!”

“Do you even love me?” Hester asks and when she looks, Ysabel can see how red her eyes are. “Or did you only say it to make me happy?” 

“I love you! I told you, you’re mine! I’m yours-” She reaches for Hester, but she rebuffs her coldly, shoving Ysabel back down onto her seat. Ysabel stares at Hester and for the first time since she was very small, she finds herself afraid of her. “Hester. I’m yours.” 

“You are everyone’s. A saint belongs to all.” She says and she sits once more. There’s little of the woman that kissed Ysabel in her. Hester looks like a Mother, just like any other Mother like this. “You’ve become corrupted. You need to be purified.” 

“You’ve been corrupted by your jealousy!” Ysabel raises her voice and she cries out, “Let me out! I command you! God commands you!” 

They do not open the doors, not until they arrive. And by then, Ysabel has realized that they will not be listening to her ever again. 

—

She does not know how long it has been. There is no light here. There are no days. There is just penance. She has sinned and they will purify her by any means.

Ysabel has been vain. So her vanity is taken. Her hair is shaved and her face is exposed and she has her mirrors smashed in front of her. Her lips crack and her skin breaks out, and the only sight she sees of herself is in the dark reflection of the water in her cup.

Ysabel has been greedy. So she is punished. Her food is sparse. Her clothes is reduced to a single rough sackcloth. She sleeps on stone and she kneels on stone and she stands on stone, and the ache is always in her body. They take her behelit and when she asks for him, they tell her that they have thrown him into the sea itself. 

Ysabel has been lazy. So laziness is stripped from her. She is put to work, as she was when she was a child. They make her scrubs the stones, over and over. Her cell is the only thing she sees, and she is to clean it day in and day out, and to pray to God for forgiveness. 

Ysabel has been lustful. So lust is destroyed. They take the parts of her that would bring her pleasure and she lies on the stone in pain. The fever threatens to kill her. She weeps and weeps and digs her fingers into her skin and prays to God to heal herself. But the light never comes. God never speaks to her. 

They demand confession from her. Admit your sin. Pray for forgiveness. She demanded at first. Then she bargained. Then she told them everything - Lauda, the Father, the bones, Hester, everything. Then she raged again. And now…

Now she prays numbly, over and over again, praying to be freed. She weeps. She hides her hatred of them, her burning resentment. She just wants to be free. The festival days are gone, but if she could have sunlight again… 

She lies on the stones and she touches her breastbone where the behelit once lay, and she despairs. 

—

Hester comes to her now and then. They bring her a chair to sit on and they take it away when she leaves. She is cold as the paving stones and her face does not budge as Ysabel begs her for mercy. “Please, please, I’ve confessed, I’ve done everything, they’ve taken everything from me. Please Hester, please, I never betrayed them, I never betrayed you.” 

Her once-lover’s face does not budge. She simply sits there and waits for Ysabel to quiet, and when she weeps too loudly, she tells Ysabel, “You are a saint. This is unbecoming behavior.” 

“I never wanted to be a saint! I never wanted any of this!” She sobs and scraps her fingers over her skin again. There’s marks on them, deep from her fingernails. “I only wanted to help!” 

“You didn’t.” Hester says. She is so cold and Ysabel is left undone, a raving mess. She used to be the calm one. Now her chest hitches and she can’t bear to be alone for long. “You liked the attention they all gave you.”

“I didn’t!” She wails and Hester leaves without another word.

When she returns later - and it is always later, and Ysabel is unsure if it was days or weeks - she ends up on her knees. Confession must be what Hester wants. “I did, I did, b-but I was helping! What does it matter if it felt good to be loved? Isn’t that good, that I was happy?” 

Hester laces her fingers together. She sits there in her chair and she stares at Ysabel. “God does not care for our happiness. He wants us to be good.” 

“I was good! I was good!” She would tear at her hair, but it’s gone. There’s only fuzz left, and they take it from her every few weeks, when it gets long enough to offend them. She clutches her head and she hates the trembling, hysterical tone to her voice. “I was good, I swear to you! Hester, I swear. I swear.” 

“You are meant to serve as a conduit for His will. You have been corrupted by your greed and selfishness.” Hester says and when Ysabel weeps, her voice raises higher. “You have not yet repented.” 

Ysabel slams her fist against the stones. “You liked it! You slept beside me! You wore the silks too!” 

“I was corrupted by your influence.” Hester says and Ysabel howls, the rage and bile spilling out of her. How dare she! How dare she say she was corrupted. 

“You were the one who kissed me!” Ysabel clutches at her body, tearing at her sackcloth. “You said the words first!” 

Hester leaves and Ysabel screams and curls up on the floor and prays. 

When God does not answer her prayers, she sings to Dain’s gods, to the Four Kings of the World. She doesn’t know their names, but if they are there, if they are real, surely they’ll hear her? Surely they’ll send Dain. If she’s a witch, then they’ll save her. 

—

Dain comes. They do not let him step into her cell. He speaks to her through the door. His voice is so unfamiliar that when he says, “Ysabel?”, she simply stares at the wall, certain that she is having a vision.

(She has many visions. The longer they leave her alone, the worse they become.)

When he says her name again, she calls back, “Dain?” and then she climbs to her knees and crawls to the door, pressing her hands to it. “Dain, Dain, oh, oh, I’m here. I’m here. Dain, I’m here…” 

“It’s okay. Shhh, it’s okay.” He comforts her and she weeps. No one’s had a kind word for her since she came here. All she wants to do is hold his hand. Dain, sweet Dain. She should have listened to him. He was right. He was right. It wasn’t safe to leave. The Mothers have told her to another city to keep and she wants to go home. She wails this out in garbled bits and pieces and she rests her head on the wood door and he shushes her again.

She quiets herself, like she would so long ago. 

Dain speaks soft and steady to her. “Did they take your hands?”

“N-no. No. I. I have my fingers. I have my hands.” She clutches at her cloth and her voice stumbles as she tells him, “T-they. They took other things. Oh God, Dain-”

“But not your hands, right? Can you heal?” He asks and she sobs and nods. He asks again. “Ysabel, can you heal still?” 

“Yes.” Sh whispers. She rubs her face. “I-it… it doesn’t come the way it used to. I tried c-calling to your Kings Dain, I asked them to send you and you’re here, you’re here to save me-” 

“Ysabel, take a deep breath. In. Out. In. Out.” He talks to her, and she breathes, and in time, she quiets herself again. Her palm splays flat on the door and she rests her cheek on it, and waits for Dain to open the door and take her from this place. She wants to go home. She wants to see the temple again. She wants a bed - any bed, any bed at all. Ysabel will do anything to be out of this room. 

“Dain. Dain please.” She begs him softly. He loves her, doesn’t he? She kissed him once. That meant something to him, didn’t it? She’ll do anything if he gets her out of here. She’ll love him, she can make herself love him, as long as he frees her. “Dain, I love you. Please.” 

“We’ll come for you soon.” He says to her and she cries out, low and desperate. She needs to leave now. “Don’t be afraid Ysabel. It’s only a little longer.” 

“Your time is up.” A woman says - a Mother. 

He speaks again, not to Ysabel, but to her. “I want to see her hands. I need to be sure she can still heal.”

“She answered that question for you.” The Mother says.

“Show me. If you want your people returned to you, you’ll show me.” Dain commands. 

There is silence. Then the door swings open, and Ysabel is left kneeling on the floor. She looks up at Dain, and at the Mother beside him. He crouches down and takes her hands, turning them over to look at them. He doesn’t even look at her face. She hasn’t been touched kindly in- in a long time. “Dain.” She says his name. She’s weeping. “Please-” 

He finally looks at her. His eyes are so blue. She turned them from cloudy to blue. Now he looks through her, like she’s hardly worth noting. He lets go of her hands and stands, and the door closes. Through it, he speaks, but she can’t hear anything. Ysabel wails and throws herself against it, howling and screaming. She smashes her hands against the door. 

She prayed! She prayed to them! He came! He was supposed to save her! 

Ysabel smashes her fists into the stones over and over again, until the skin breaks, until there’s blood smeared everywhere. She drags her prints over the walls, high enough that they can’t be easily cleaned. She screams and thrashes and howls. 

But no one comes for her. They leave her to lie in her cell in the dark. 

—

“They’ve treated you poorly, haven’t they.” 

Her eyes open. The room is dark. It stinks like blood and piss. Her fists throb painfully. 

There’s a face above her. She knows it. It’s the Father. She whimpers softly. He’s come to kill her. Like she tried to kill him.

He’s not in the ceiling. The ceiling is missing. There’s something dark beyond him, blacker than black, stretching on endlessly. She’s at the bottom of a vast chamber and the Father smiles at her, showing all his teeth. 

“Soon.” He tells her. “I’ll see you soon. And then, you’ll remember our agreement. An audience with you.” 

Her fists throb. She weeps softly. “Home.” She says to him. “I want to go home.”

“Soon.” He whispers. There are other faces around him. Other figures. Each is more grotesque than the last. They whisper to themselves. Look at her, they say. Behold her. So close. So very close. 

“Home.” She begs and they smile at her, until the darkness creeps over her eyes, a soothing, warm darkness, instead of the strange cold black.

When her eyes open again, her hands hurt more, and there’s just the ceiling above her.

—

Hester comes with her chair. Ysabel lies on the floor, her dull eyes staring at her. There are no tears this time. No begging. She simply lies there and waits. 

Hester sits perfectly still. She has always been at that. Ysabel tended to twitch if she was still for too long. This room has broken her of that habit. She not longer shifts or moves. She can lie still on the ground for hours. 

Finally, she speaks. “Do you understand your sin?” 

Ysabel lies there quiet and silent. Does she understand her sin? Is that what it’s come to? Does she understand her sin?

“I took something. I wanted it to be mine.” Her voice cracks as she speaks, dry like land after a drought. Her eyes stare off into the distance and her fingers close around the behelit she lost long ago. “A saint shouldn’t have things.” 

Hester nods. She nods, and she says, “We do not have possessions. We can only live sinless when we live with nothing that is ‘ours’.” 

Ysabel stares at her. She used to kiss those lips. She used to hold that body close. They slept in the same bed and they made sweet promises to one another. 

Now she lies on the stone, her fingers twisted from where she beat them against the stone, and Hester sits in her chair, a million miles away. 

“Did you love me?” She asks. 

“I did.” Hester says. She hesitates, and adds. “I do. But not as a possession. I love the holy light that lives in you.” 

“Liar.” Ysabel hisses. Hester’s face is stone but she can see the cracks and she digs her fingers in. “You loved me first.” 

“You still don’t understand.” Hester says, and she stands up. Ysabel watches her leave and when the darkness comes, she curls around herself. The rage in her throbs and rages. 

Hester. Dain. Her people. The Mothers. They’ve all abandoned her. And she hates them. She hates them so much. She’s going to dark here in the darkness, and her last thoughts of them will be the endless red of hate. 

—

There comes a day when they pull her from her cell. It’s been so long that the corridor leaves her dizzy from the overwhelming amount of space. They dress her in white and they place bells and ribbons in the short fuzz of her hair. She jingles as she walks. Mothers flank her. 

When they walk up the stairs, she realizes that she knows where they are. This is the home she grew up in. They have kept her in the basement, in her home. She has been here all this time. All this time, below their feet. 

The sound of the crowd can be heard long before she sees them. The Mothers walk her through the halls and into the grand entrance, and they walk her outside-

And there, on the steps, are her people. They call her name. They reach their hands out to her. Ysabel is frightened and scared, like a little girl again. She was frightened of the first festival, of the noise.

There is a voice speaking. Hester. That is Hester, in her Mother clothes. And beside her stands Dain. Their shoulders are both straight and firm. He looks at her hands, before he looks at her. Ysabel stares blankly at him before her eyes turn to Hester. 

“-purified once more. She has undergone trials and emerged.” Hester speaks and Ysabel’s heart aches to look at her. “God has restored her. God is good.” 

“God is good!” They echo back. Ysabel stares at those faces. She has been beneath them this entire time. And they have known. They have all known. 

Dain speaks. “There will be no more bloodshed. The saint has returned, and she will heal once again. There will be no more suffering-”

His words are lost as the crowd surges, pushing up and swelling around her. The Mothers are swallowed by it, and Ysabel stumbles as she’s pulled into them. Her bells jingle. The crowd takes her hands and they press against them, crying out to be healed. Ysabel stares blindly at them. She is overwhelmed. She is drowning.

They love her and she loves them and they left her to rot beneath their feet. 

A shadow falls across them, slowly. When she raises her eyes, she sees something dark and vast crawling over the face of the sun, blotting out it’s light. 

Hand press flowers into her hair, and they string necklaces around her neck - thin, cheap cord, carved wood, shells, things fished from garbage and the sea. Then the hands grow tighter. Greedy. Their fingernails dig in. They pull and tear and her voice lets out a scream of terror. The Mothers drag her away from the crowds. 

Dain and Hester argue nearby. He says: “What are you doing? They’ve waited a year for her.”

Hester says, “She isn’t ready. She isn’t healing anyone.” 

Dain says, “She will. She wants to. When they hold her, she’ll remember. You’ve kept her from them long enough.” 

Hester says, “She can remember without being torn apart. Tell the crowd to settle, or they’ll not see her again.”

They bicker. Hester looks down at the necklaces they’ve strung over her, thank-yous and blessings. They let her be taken. They left her. 

The behelit hangs among them. His eyes are closed and her hands throb and she stares at him. They told her they threw him into the ocean. His chain is gone and he hangs from a well-worn cord. He made his way back to her. 

Ysabel wraps a bloody hand around him and weeping, she presses him to her lips. 

The darkness slides over the sun fully. The behelit’s features slide and shift, and as Ysabel stares, she sees a face form where only the impression of one was before. Her blood drips over him, and he opens both his eyes and mouth, and screams. 

She thought it was dark before. But she has never known true darkness, until now. 

—

“You must offer a sacrifice.” The God Hand says. 

The people tremble and scream. They beg to be saved. Dain calls her name. Hester’s face is stone, but her eyes are wet and red. 

Ysabel turns her face away from them, and gives herself over. 

—

When she emerges, she is Ysabel no more. That girl is dead and gone. 

She settles herself besides the God Hand, taking her place among them. She is beautiful now, and lustful, and powerful, and worshiped. She watches the demons feed and she feels sensations that she was denied for so long, and she delights in this new world. When they call to her, she spreads her wings and flies down to them to join in their revelries. She tastes and touches, she devours, she fucks, she revels in the pleasure of the physical. 

She is Slan, and she is content, for every day is now festival day.


End file.
